Unspoken
by Bag Of Badgers
Summary: ItaGer. Ludwig is very quiet in bed, but that's really not a big problem. NSFW, et cetera.


Ludwig is so _quiet_ in bed.

It unnerved Feliciano a bit the first time they were together, even though he'd known Ludwig was new to it and so _shy_ about everything, but Ludwig just wasn't noisy, especially not the way Feliciano was. And over the years he's figured out how to get Ludwig louder, how to make him moan and raise his voice, but it's still rare.

(Even rarer are the times Feliciano's teased Ludwig to screaming, it's just difficult to get him to really let go but he has a few times and it's _wonderful_.)

He doesn't need to be loud, though, to get his message across. Ludwig's hands work perfectly well like that, blunt fingernails digging into Feliciano's shoulders and scraping down his back as Ludwig gasps and arches beneath him, lip caught between his teeth and strong thighs twitching.

_Harder_ slips out of Ludwig's mouth, followed by choked-off words in — Feliciano hadn't even known Ludwig _knew_ how to say that in Italian, but it was so quiet, sounds barely more than shaped breath, and cut off again when Ludwig bites into his lip. Feliciano wishes he wouldn't do that, Ludwig's lips are _so _nice and it's a shame to see them chewed up because he doesn't trust himself to make noise, but now's not the time to broach the subject and besides it doesn't mean it hurts and Feliciano knows how to stop him doing it, anyway.

How to stop that is this: kiss him, kiss Ludwig until neither of them can breathe and Feliciano's arms tremble with the effort of pushing forward enough that he can even reach Ludwig's mouth but Ludwig bends to meet him and sighs into his mouth and his nails drag across the willowy stretch of Feliciano's back, leaving trails of light, stinging feeling. He's so _warm_ around Feliciano, legs around his waist and arms at his back and lips to lips, not like the cold fingers he pokes Feliciano with in the morning if he's not out of bed fast enough but warm and sweet and almost truly pliable and Feliciano can't help holding the kiss if he's going to keep thinking like that, so he does.

Ludwig digs in harder when he's close and it actually does hurt a little but not in a bad way at all, more in an _ow_-but-that's-good way and he keeps making these insistent little noises in the back of his throat and he's _clinging_ so tightly it's really kind of hard for Feliciano to move and that's also not so bad anyway and not _so_ hard that Feliciano can't slide a hand down between them — and, ah, yeah, it's kind of difficult to get it moving but that does mean he gets a chance to feel the muscles in Ludwig's abdomen tense and flutter before going further down and wrapping around his cock.

Feliciano pulls back, just enough to watch because this is really his favorite part (though choosing is still very hard), and Ludwig bucks beneath him and it's three, _four_ strokes before he comes over Feliciano's fingers, body and mouth and eyes open and nails scraping down Feliciano's back one last time. Feliciano follows him soon after, pressing close and nuzzling little kisses into the underside of his jaw and letting the soft pleasure roll over him. After, he feels a little lightheaded and slow, like a glass of wine after a really good, big meal, and just sinks into Ludwig's breathing, the gentle movements of his sturdy chest.

It takes him a minute to realize that his back actually does sting, but it still doesn't seem all that urgent. Ludwig prods him gently in the shoulder and says something about showering, and even though that means getting up and not being warm and effort and movement Feliciano does anyway. On the way into the shower he gets a quick look at his back, and oh.

Well.

He's surprised it doesn't sting more, if it looks like that — long pink marks stretching along his back, like a series of messy chevrons with their points somewhere in the vicinity of his spine except for the ones that are more straight up and down and — yeah, now that he's thinking about it, there's the sting — but it's — it makes something pleasant and feathery unfurl behind his ribs, to think that Ludwig did that, gave him that. To think that tomorrow he'll still have these under his shirt (if he puts one on, which he might not unless Ludwig makes him).

Ludwig notices not long after Feliciano does, and winces, apologizing softly while his big hands rub conditioner into Feliciano's hair. Feliciano bats him on whatever part of his body he can reach with his eyes closed and his back to Ludwig, which if he had to guess would be somewhere just under the ribs and tells him not to, he doesn't have to and it doesn't hurt (well, it does a little but he doesn't really want to try and milk it) and besides he likes it and Ludwig hums and then adds a couple seconds later that it does _not_ mean Feliciano gets to call him kitten or cat or anything else of that nature and Feliciano pretends to sulk about it.

And besides, he thinks later with Ludwig's body curled around his and Ludwig nosing softly at the curls at the nape of Feliciano's neck and their legs tangled up together, it's also nice being someone who Ludwig can hold on to.


End file.
